mondays

I will break you,
you have a deer's heart
it
slams between your
            thighs
&
            you have the eyes of a vulture -
you push them along my stomach
concave, I will bury my face -
you're too cold for
the pupupushing
            of your neck into my hip
digging your fingers into m-

Margaret Mary is in a school studying things, and spends a lot of time reminiscing on hitch hiking and trying to find the meaning of life as described by an anxiety ridden cat - no luck as of yet.